


En Même Temps

by theministerskat



Series: Kat's Other Outlander Tales [1]
Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Anon Prompt, Canon Divergent, F/M, How it should have happened, book: drums of autumn, other outlander tales
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-06-12 23:34:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15351210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theministerskat/pseuds/theministerskat
Summary: Roger finds Jamie and Claire’s death notice and decides to tell Brianna instead of keeping it from her. They choose to make the journey through the stones together.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story comes from a prompt submitted to @otheroutlandertales over on Tumblr. 
> 
> Anonymous said: Canon Divergence: Bree and Roger travel through the stones together to warn Claire and Jamie of the impending fire at Fraser's Ridge.

_**Oxford, November 1970** _

 

Roger took what felt like his first deep breath in more than eight weeks. _I found him_. Pulling his hands from the page, he rubbed his eyes to clear his vision before refocusing again. He ran the tips of his fingers across the name to make sure it was still there and the grief in the pit of his stomach eased just a bit. He knew Jamie Fraser had to be alive, but to see it so clearly on paper, written in history, brought him relief.

 

Once the initial shock from finding Jamie and Claire’s death notice - in a damned book of ballads no less - wore off, he had set his mind to searching for their whereabouts prior to 1776. He knew he had to tell Brianna about the notice. She was smart; she would find it herself in time. Growing up with Frank Randall she would know to look for information about her parents in unlikely places. It was Roger who had found it though, and with that he felt a responsibility - a need - to protect her from it. The best way he thought to do that was by filling in some of story for her. Yes, Jamie and Claire would die together on a cold January night, but they would be together, they would build a life with each other in the new world. The notice and land grant would show that the sacrifices they all made weren’t for nothing. That is what he had set out to do.

 

Luckily, that bloody announcement gave him a rather fine place to start looking; he combed through every public record he could get his hands on regarding land grants in colonial North Carolina. It had to be somewhere. _Fraser’s Ridge,_ a place wasn’t named after someone if he were the proprietor of a measly few acres.

 

Roger had been right. Scrawled across the page in front of him was the information he had desperately been seeking: 10,000 acres granted to James MacKenzie Fraser by Governor Tryon in 1767. A year and a half ago. _Well, that, plus 202 years if you’re going to be exact_ , he thought to himself. And the notice listed their deaths as eight years from now. _No, eight years from 1768._ Even he couldn’t keep the years straight sometimes. But that’s where they had to be at this very moment, Fraser’s Ridge, Rowan County, North Carolina.

 

Roger smiled to himself as he pictured the pristine surgeon he had met two years ago, imagining her working to establish a homestead in the backcountry wilderness of the American Colonies. He remembered noticing Claire’s hands when he had first met her, perfectly kept with long, delicate fingers; he pictured them now as calloused from the work that would need to be done as she and Jamie established their home. The thought of Jamie Fraser at Claire’s side had brought him a small sense of solace amidst the grief he had felt over the weeks of searching. _She had found him, her Highlander._ That was the silver lining to it all. Claire would be protected and cared for until her time came. Would he get to do the same for Brianna? Protect her no matter what the future held for them?

 

With another deep sigh Roger looked up from the mess of books and papers scattered about him. _I’m turning into the Reverend_ , he thought, and shook off the laugh forming in his chest. Scanning the cavernous reading room of the library, he noticed it was empty for the most part, just a few other table lamps still alit with students at this hour. Checking once more to be sure Fraser’s name was still there, he reached for a scrap piece of note paper and scribbled the title of the book and page number down. He folded the note and tucked it in the breast pocket of his jacket; Brianna would want to see it for herself.

 

They had spent some time searching together during their short visits with one another. Beyond the article about Fraser’s print shop burning, they had found nothing. The lack of information about them in Scotland made sense to Roger now. Jamie Fraser was granted his land not long after Claire’s return, they must have left for the colonies quite quickly after the fire. But even in their searching, he and Brianna hadn’t found them on any of the passenger rolls from ships leaving Scotland.

 

Roger pushed aside thoughts of their unsuccessful past attempts, and gathered his belongings, shoving them into his bag. Closing the book of land transactions with a thud, he pushed his chair back from the table and stretched his arms above his head, trying to alleviate some of the tension that had gathered between his shoulders.

 

He had spent every free moment and endless nights in the library searching. His own work had suffered over those weeks. Once again, he found himself devoting an embarrassing amount of time to a project inspired by the Randall women. Just like the last time, he had succeeded in his efforts.

 

“And will this find have the same outcome as the last?” he mumbled to himself, letting that doubtful little voice have full reign now. It was the voice and its question that he had been trying, unsuccessfully for the most part, to push from his mind over the course of this round of searching. It felt like a punch to the gut every time it crept into his thoughts. _Would she leave, and join her parents in the past?_ No, that question didn’t feel like a fist in the stomach if he were honest, but a shot to his heart.

 

Standing up and throwing the strap of his bag over his shoulder, he gathered the stack of books and headed for the research desk.

 

“Another late night, Professor Wakefield?” The student librarian looked up at the sound of Roger approaching.

 

“Aye, Cliff,” Roger answered setting the books on the counter.

 

“Want me to keep these to the side again for you? For tomorrow?”

 

“No, that won’t be necessary, I found what I was looking for. Thank ye though.”

 

“Oh, well I look forward to seeing what comes from all this research you’ve been doing.”

 

“Yeah, me too.” With a final nod of thanks, Roger made his way out into the quad.

 

It was a cold night for November in Oxford, much like the one when Claire had made her trip through the stones, and a shiver ran down his spine at the memory of it. Roger pulled his Mac tighter around his body, unsure if he was seeking warmth from the weather or security from his thoughts of the stones. He cursed himself for letting his mind wander to the stones yet again. He had done an admirable job of keeping them and what they may mean for his future - and Brianna’s - at bay over the last eight weeks. The thought of them always threatened to completely overtake him. But when he saw Jamie Fraser’s name written in that book, the floodgates opened.

 

He had a nagging suspicion of how Brianna would react once she processed the news of her parents’ deaths, and it didn’t involve sitting around and waiting for the next eight years to pass by slowly. She would be arriving in Oxford in just a couple of weeks. He needed that time to figure out how to tell her. Figure out how to relay the good with the bad. Try to process his own wants and desires, to keep her here with him.

 

“Who are you trying to fool, mate?” he said aloud to himself. “She’ll go back, no need to pretend she won’t.” _But what of me?_ He suspected he could also make the journey, but would she want him to go with her? They never labeled their relationship, not even after his proposal. But nothing had changed between them. The passionate letters still arrived two or three times a week, always signed with love. Oh he did love her; what he wouldn’t give to be all she needed in this world, in this time, just as she was to him. But it would be her decision to make, and he would accept it. Whatever she needed from him, Roger would be there to give it to her, even if it meant letting her go to the past alone.

 

He didn’t believe Brianna would be able to stop whatever was meant to happen to her parents. But he could help give her time. Time to meet Jamie Fraser, find out who she was because of him. He understood the desire to learn all you could about a father lost; how many hours had he spent picturing the father he never knew? The reverend made sure to preserve Jerry MacKenzie’s memory for him the best he could, but sometimes it just wasn’t enough. If given the opportunity to find his own father, spend just a few moments with him, wouldn’t he choose to do that? Try to change what had happened to him? _No_ , he thought, _it can’t be done._ If what he’d learned in his Presbyterian upbringing was true, that the past couldn’t be changed, perhaps it could possibly be twisted. Claire had proven that when she and Jamie had saved the Broch Mordha men by sending them home before the Battle of Culloden. Maybe, just maybe he and Bree could give Jamie and Claire more time.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bree goes to Oxford for Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story comes from a prompt submitted to @otheroutlandertales over on Tumblr.
> 
> Anonymous said: Canon Divergence: Bree and Roger travel through the stones together to warn Claire and Jamie of the impending fire at Fraser's Ridge.

**_Oxford, December 1970_ **

 

It was a damp night in Oxford, and just cold enough that snowflakes began to fall as they walked along the River Cherwell. Brianna watched as the heavy, wet snow came down around them in large crystals, floating to the earth as if in slow motion. Her arm was looped tightly through Roger’s, the slight chill of the wind imploring her to lean closer into him for warmth. _Just like Boston_ , she thought to herself.

 

A particularly cold gust had her trying to burrow herself into him even more, and she glanced up at him. One flake after another landed on the top of his head, their bright white color sitting in stark contrast to his dark hair, before melting away into nothingness. She smiled to herself; he was so beautiful - tender, yet rugged - and a part of her wondered why she ever had reservations about her own feelings for him.

 

With the snow blurring and distorting everything around her but Roger, Brianna couldn’t stop her thoughts from straying back to the memory of their foggy walk along the River Ness the year before. _“I’ll wait.”_ His assertion made with such sincerity and understanding, that she nearly forgot her own excuses for why they couldn’t be together just then.

 

She returned to Boston though, and Roger went back to Oxford. Frequent calls were placed; him catching her just before she started her day, and she ringing just before he went to bed. Their letters across the Atlantic held the passionate declarations that never found their way into their conversations over the phone. He made the journey to see her in April. With no obligations, they spent the week perusing museums, exploring old bookshops, and simply enjoying each other’s company.

 

Brianna became sure of it then; knew that this was the man she wanted to spend her life with. But there was still a full year before they could be together, before she finished school. She didn’t feel rushed to tell him, assured by his words - and actions - that he was waiting for her.

 

 _You should have told him_ , she admonished herself as she loosened her grip on his arm.

 

In the last three months, his letters had become less passionate, and more a direct,  straightforward synopsis of his days. Their phone calls occurred less often and were short. Roger always having to ring off, excusing himself with research for a new project, or so he told her. She’d felt the strain in his voice and written words, as though he had carefully chosen each word.

 

He’d been distant since she’d arrived. _No - not distant_ , she thought. _Reserved_. He was guarded, like he was building a wall between them. His actions confirmed what his letters only hinted at; he was drifting away from her.

 

 _You made him wait too long,_ Brianna cursed herself. _You told him no then, and now he’s found someone else._

 

In her desire to be completely dedicated to him, to know her own heart fully, she had also given him the opportunity to reconsider his own. She never questioned Roger’s devotion to her, realizing now that she had taken it for granted. _How could you be so stupid?_ She felt the doubt that had been accumulating in her heart grow.

 

 _Maybe it’s for the best, to end it now_ . Brianna had come to Oxford to ask so much more of him than he, and even herself, ever imagined she would. _Yes, it was better this way._ But she had to hear the truth from him.

 

Pulling herself out of her own mind, Brianna noticed him staring out across the river, deep in thought himself, absent from the moment once again. She wouldn’t stand by and let the space between them grow anymore.

 

“Roger?” The quiver in her voice was hard to mask, but she pushed back the doubt she was feeling and continued, “Is something the matter?”

 

“Hmm?” He pulled himself back to reality. “What’s that?”

 

She came to a stop, but he continued a few more steps until their arms fell apart. The sudden loss of her warmth jarred him, and he turned back to her, head cocked to the side in question, not quite meeting her eyes.

 

“I said, ‘Is something wrong?’ I’ve been here for three days, but I feel like you haven’t been here at all.” She sighed, knowing full well he’d be able to hear the sullenness in her voice. “You’ve hardly looked at me... hardly touched me.”

 

He met her eyes this time. There was warmth there, and love too she thought, but not the depths of emotion she had seen before.

 

“Just tell me.” Her pleading tone couldn’t be helped now. “Tell me if there’s someone else. I’ll understand.” She would, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t break her at the same time.

 

“What? Someone else? Oh god, Bree, no.” He stepped towards her, but she took a step back. He froze, and brought his hands up, running them through his wet hair.

 

He was thinking hard, she could see his mind working all across his face, confused, but working out what to say to her. Her stomach dropped at the possibilities of his words, and she took a deep breath, bracing herself.

 

“Have ye ever thought about what ye’d do if we find ‘em?” His gaze traveled down to the path beneath his feet, and his hands found their way into the pockets of his Mac.

 

“Find them? Find wh-” She stopped, the meaning of his words finally registering with her. “My par- my mother and Jamie?”

 

“Aye, if we do find them, would ye try to go back, Bree?”

 

Brianna stared at him, mouth slightly open, but she was unable to form an answer. Roger moved towards her, a bit more tentative this time. She didn’t pull back, and his hands came up to rest on the curve of her hips, his touch snapping her out of her own shock.

 

Suddenly, it all made sense, and her body relaxed in relief. _He found it. He had found the notice and he was preparing himself to lose her._ Brianna felt an inappropriate need to laugh. She thought he wanted to call things off with her, but he believed the same of her.

 

“Roger, did you find the- the newspaper article?” She had stopped herself from calling it what it truly was: a death notice.

 

It was his turn to be flabbergasted. He blinked several times, very slowly. Then, his lips curved up in the faintest hint of a smile.

 

“Ye found it too, then?” He paused for the briefest of moments, but continued before she could answer him, “Aye, I knew ye would.” She thought there was a hint of pride in his voice and in the look he gave her.

 

“Yes, just a couple of weeks ago.” Her voice trailed off, the reality of the entire thing finally settling in her. Finding the notice had been shocking. She had been looking for something, anything, of her parents; using all of her freetime to comb through collections of newspapers more than 200 years old. And there it was. Thinking about it, she felt the tears begin to well in her eyes, and the first one fell down her cold cheeks.

 

Roger pulled her closer to him, one arm wrapping around her, while the other came up to brush the tear away.

 

“Ye’ll be able to see them. Ye’ll go back, hen.” It was a statement, no doubt in his words. He would help her, even if it meant losing her. “I promise I’ll make sure you have everything ye need.”

 

She composed herself as best she could, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. Yes, he would see her safe, he just didn’t realize how far his promise might take them both.

 

She pulled his head down to hers and kissed him.

 

“Roger, I do want to go back. But I want you to go with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read this story.
> 
> If you would like to submit a prompt to Other Outlander Tales, or check out any of our other stories, you can do so by visiting me and the other mods over on Tumblr at otheroutlandertales.tumblr.com.


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger and Bree prepare for their journey through the stones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story comes from a prompt submitted to @otheroutlandertales over on Tumblr.
> 
> Anonymous said: Canon Divergence: Bree and Roger travel through the stones together to warn Claire and Jamie of the impending fire at Fraser's Ridge.

**_Boston, January 1971_ **

 

Roger folded the sides down on the box he had just finished filling. Securing it with a strip of tape, he slid it across the dark hardwood floor towards Brianna. She finished labelling the box in front of her and pushed it aside. Turning to him, she pulled the box he had just packed in front her and raised a single ruddy brow in inquiry.   

 

“Books,” he said, answering her silent question. She cocked her head, raising both eyebrows this time, and her mouth forming a sarcastic smile. It was a look that reminded Roger of Claire - a look that had been directed at him once or twice during their search for Jamie Fraser.

 

“ _ Medical _ books,” he clarified and watched as she labeled the box in her tidy, angular hand. 

 

He relaxed into the couch, done with his portion of the work, and watched her. Dressed in well worn jeans and an old Harvard sweatshirt, sitting on the floor, long, elegant, legs crossed beneath her, copper hair falling loose around her shoulders. Even in the most mundane circumstances she was  _ beautiful _ . 

 

Glancing up he took in the rest of the apartment. The only items that hadn’t been put away were the history books and notes they had been working through on the kitchen table. The room around them was empty, everything packed away in boxes stacked by the door, waiting for the movers to take them to storage. Roger imagined for an instant that they were packing her things away to be shipped to Oxford, to a small flat they would share, to the start of a life together.  _ If only it were that simple, mate _ , he thought.

 

The last few weeks since Christmas had been a blur. They packed up his small quarters in the porter’s lodge, sending everything he owned on to Inverness. His paperwork to take a sabbatical from the university was submitted; two years of travelling in the States to research the impact of Scottish immigrants on Colonial America. Brianna had dissolved into a fit of laughter when he told her about his meeting with the dean of the history department.

 

_ “Didn’t think to mention to him that it would be first hand experience you’d be using for your research, did you?” she asked him as they left the administration office and headed for the taxi stand. _

 

_ “Of course not. I’d rather it be officially recorded as a voluntary break than a ‘forced resignation for psychiatric reasons’.” He emphasized the words by exaggerating the rolling of his R’s, hoping to elicit even more laughter from her. _

 

_ But she had stopped in the middle of the walkway, pulling him to her by the hand that was intertwined with her own. Stumbling back, his arms came up and reflexively wrapped around her waist, shielding her from the late December wind.  _

 

_ “Are you sure about this Roger? I could go alone- I wouldn’t be gone long.” She searched his face, looking for any sign of doubt on his part. He felt his heart constrict at the insecurity in her expression. _

 

_ “Brianna, ye ken I’d do anything for ye. Even if ye didna ask it of me.” He reached up and brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. “I’d follow ye to hell and back, just to see ye safe. Ye’ll no ask me again, aye?” She laid her cheek against him, just below his shoulder and he felt her nod into his chest. He held her tight to him and placed a kiss on the top of her head. _

 

_ “I love you,” she said, her confident resolve returning. _

 

_ “Aye, and I you, Bree. Let’s go.” _

 

_ Taking his hand again, she walked a step ahead of him. He followed her, his free hand diving into the depths of his trouser pocket, fingers searching for his mother’s wedding ring. The cold metal warmed as he turned it over and over between his fingers, his heart more sure with each revolution. It was different this time. She had asked him to go with her, a sign that she was absolutely sure of her heart.  _

 

Brianna had been very matter of fact about everything since that last reassurance. Her demeanor reflected no hint of what they were truly preparing for. No insecurities, no fears. She was a woman on a mission, just as her mother had been. 

 

They discussed the logistics of their trip as they went about completing the tasks that essentially put their lives on hold in 1971. They decided to attempt the journey on the sun feast of Ostara, the vernal equinox in March. This gave them enough time to settle their own affairs in the present, and to prepare for and research life in pre-Revolutionary America. 

 

Once everything was done in Boston, they would head back to Scotland and make their final preparations to travel through the stones. Brianna suggested going to Lallybroch first once they were through, but knowing her parents were already in North Carolina in 1769, Roger made the case that it would add unnecessary risk to their journey. Ships would begin to cross the Atlantic again in early April after the winter months, and they hoped to reach the colonies by June.

 

Going through all the details once more made Roger realize that everything actually had been quite simple for them. They worked perfectly as a team, each allowing the other to take the lead on aspects of preparation that best fit their strengths. Supporting one another came easily for them. Roger’s hand moved to the inside of his trouser pocket, searching out his mother’s ring. He kept it on him all the time now, waiting for that perfect moment to give it to her. Lately, he had been using it as a source of encouragement, the feel of it brushing his fingertips grounded him to the moment and reminding him of his goal. 

 

He was not worried about how Brianna would react when he gave it to her, but it helped to keep his other worries at bay. What truly concerned Roger were the forces that were out of his control. The standing stones were a risk in and of themselves, but it was the little things that they may encounter that kept him up at night. The 18th century was a precarious time to live, people fell ill and died of simple diseases and injuries that were were easy to fix in the 20th century. There were the people, some so desperate that they would harm innocents for their own survival. Would he be able to protect them both well enough that they could make it back in one piece?

 

“I think that’s the last of it for now.” Brianna said, stretching her legs out in front of her and looking up at him. He tried to shake his previous thoughts from his mind and hide his thoughts from her, but she caught the expression of deep thought on his face and smiled at him. 

 

“You’re overthinking it again.”

 

Looking closer at Brianna, Roger noticed a slight wrinkle between her eyebrows, one that had not been there when she visited him in Scotland the previous summer. Perhaps she was feeling a small amount of the stress he himself was experiencing, though she could hide it much better than him.

 

“Och, am I now? And how would ye know that?”

 

“Your nose twitches when you’re deep in thought and worried.” 

 

“No it doesna!” His voice was mockingly abashed, but he received yet another of Claire’s looks from her. Sighing, he gave up any pretense on the matter. 

 

“How can I not worry, Bree? What if something happens? There are so many things that could go wrong.”

 

She came to him then, settling next to him on the couch. He lifted his arm for her to come closer and she rested herself in the crook of his broad shoulder. Roger held Bree for what seemed like a long time, the fingertips of one hand brushing up and down the length of her neck while the other absentmindedly fiddled with the ring in his pocket.

 

“We’ll be okay,” she said in a low voice. “And I promise to protect you.” He knew she was trying to play it off as simple teasing, but he knew there was sincerity to her words. They would protect each other, at any cost.

 

Before he could respond to her promise, his stomach made a guttural noise of protest.

 

“Hungry, Roger? How does pizza sound?” she asked. “Better enjoy it while we still can, Lord knows there won’t be pizza ovens in colonial America.”

 

“And beer?” he responded hopefully. “I ken there’s beer in the 18th century but it willna be the same.”

 

“It’s decided, then. I’ve never met a better pair than pizza and beer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read this story. Everyone's response to it has been amazing and is such an encouragement to continue with it!
> 
> If you would like to submit a prompt to Other Outlander Tales, or check out any of our other stories, you can do so by visiting me and the other mods over on Tumblr at otheroutlandertales.tumblr.com.


	4. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bree finds a bit of information that speeds up everyone's plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story comes from a prompt submitted to @otheroutlandertales over on Tumblr.
> 
> Anonymous said: Canon Divergence: Bree and Roger travel through the stones together to warn Claire and Jamie of the impending fire at Fraser's Ridge.

**_Boston, January 1971_ **

 

Brianna read the passage in front of her for the fourth time, fingers gliding along with her eyes to ensure she processed every word and their meaning. _Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ_ , she thought, then smiled at the appropriateness of using her mother’s favorite exclamation. Her mind began racing with the possibility of it all. _Could it really be the same?_

 

She shifted her position on the couch, moving her long legs out from beneath her and stretching them out over the edge of the cushion. Her feet made contact with a pile of papers instead on the hardwood as she set her feet down. Scattered around the floor were sheets of notes with important historical dates, photocopies of 18th century maps, large tomes lying open to pages that may be pertinent to their trip into the past. It was all evidence of how much planning and thought they had put into the journey.

 

Bree was satisfied with the amount of research they had completed. There wasn’t much more for them to find, but feelings of uncertainty still plagued her. She pushed those thoughts from her mind, knowing all the what ifs would drive her mad if she dwelled on them, and instead she found something else to focus on. Usually, that something else was Roger.

 

She looked up from the mess at her feet, eyes darting around the room, searching for him. Bree hoped he would interpret it in the same way she did, confirm what she had been suspecting for the last few minutes.

 

She looked to the right, and her gaze finally fixed on him. He was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, book in one hand, the other in his trouser pocket, completely focused on what he was reading. She opened her mouth to call him over, but stopped before getting the words out. His hand moved from his pants pocket to turn a page, then returned to its resting place. She had noticed this small quirk he’d developed as of late, his fingers making small indistinct movements within.

 

Bree studied him for another moment, enjoying the view. Roger’s dark hair had grown out a bit, hanging just below his ears, and a week’s worth of beard growth spread across his face, it had just crossed the point from being prickly to feeling soft, especially against her own cheek. He had ditched the layered academia look for more casual attire; she hadn’t even known he owned blue jeans until their second day back in Boston when he had exited the bathroom, hair still wet from his shower, in a pair of jeans and an old faded tee.

 

Today he wore khakis that hugged his hips in all the right places and a grey _Inverness Royal Academy_ tee that stretched across his broad shoulders. A warm sensation crept up her body and she let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding.

 

Bree squinted then, trying to see which book he was reading. She instantly recognized the worn cover and the rounded corners of the journal Fiona had sent from Scotland, _The Grimoire._ In it were the musings of Gillian Edgars, the self-proclaimed witch’s thoughts and theories on time travel, all laid out within its pages. Brianna wanted nothing to do with it for the most part, believing much of what was in it to be unwarranted speculation, but Roger had been fascinated, if not also a little horrified, by its contents, and would amble through it, time and time again.

 

The days were passing quickly, and she was thankful they had been able to find some time to focus on one another between packing and research. Bree had taken him on a tour of her own history in Boston, showing him the Harvard history department where she spent many afternoons after school with her father and the old brownstone the Randall’s had called home for more than 20 years. They had seen _The Wizard of Oz_ in all of its Technicolor glory at a local theatre that prided itself on showing old movies. She had laughed until her cheeks hurt as Roger sat next to her in the empty theatre singing along to all of the songs; it was a favorite from his childhood, he had told her.

 

Then there were the quiet nights spent in her apartment. Just the two of them, eating food from take-out containers and laughing at some odd thing or another, their minds focusing only on the moment. They would perch on opposite ends of the couch, watching reruns of _Dark Shadows_ and _I Love Lucy_ , only to end up in each other’s arms late into the night. Hands would roam over clothed skin, then dip below hems of shirts and waistbands of pants to feel the warmth of bare flesh, lips connecting in passion and urgency, the television forgotten in the background.

 

Roger, with a heavy sigh, would always stop them before anything went further than they intended. He would slowly pull away from Brianna, brushing stray strands of hair from her face, and suggest they turn in for the night. She would kiss him one last time and head for her own room, leaving him behind to settle into the sofa bed. Sometimes, under the covers of her achingly empty bed, Brianna fought to steady her breathing, the lingering feeling of Roger’s touch still electrifying every inch of her skin.

 

Looking at him now, calm, cool, collected, Brianna felt the need in her rise again. It wasn’t just a physical need -- it was emotional, too. He told her multiple times he would be there for her, and with him she felt supported, protected. And here he was, turning his entire life upside down to follow her on a journey that might actually kill them both. She wasn’t even certain if she’d shown him just how much everything he had done, everything he was planning to do, meant to her.

 

He must have felt her eyes on him because he looked up from the small black journal. The green eyes that she could lose herself in looked at her, a slight question there, but mingled with love, always with love. It was a kind of loving look she had never experienced before Roger; not one of a parent or friend, or even a romantic fling. It held an air of pure and utter devotion, full of possibility.

 

Roger quirked an eyebrow at her and it snapped her back in to the moment, finally remembering why she had looked for him in the first place.

 

“Rog-” his name caught in her throat and she cleared it before starting again. “Roger, I think I found something.”

 

“What is it?” He set his book down on the counter behind him and crossed the space between them in a few long strides. He leaned over the back of the couch, his face close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath.

 

“It’s a book on the Native American tribes of North Carolina,” she told him. “You said mama and Jamie were in the backwoods of the region. They must have some dealings with them. I thought it best to know, right?”

 

“Aye . . . are they in there?” he asked, pointing to the book in her hand.

 

“Well, no. But there’s a section on the myths and legends of the region, and, well . . . here, see for yourself.”

 

He took the book from her and began to read aloud from the section she had pointed to.

 

 _“The island of Ocracoke, called Wokokkon by the native people of the region, was primarily used as a hunting and fishing ground. It was not permanently settled until Europeans arrived in the new world, but evidence suggests that temporary camps were established for occasional use throughout the year.”_ Roger looked up, an unsure look on his face.

 

“Keep going,” Brianna said to him with a nod.

 

_“Oral history suggests it was also used as a ceremonial site for many of the tribes. A circle of standing stones is located on the island and it is believed to have been used to celebrate the quarterly equinoxes and solstices.”_

 

He didn’t say anything as he finished reading aloud, but Brianna saw his eyes moving up and down the page once more, just as she had done. She watched as he took one long deep breath, his chest rising, then he let it out slowly.

 

“The notebook Fiona sent,” she nodded towards the journal that lay on the counter, forgotten for only a moment. “Geillis’ journal,” speaking the witch’s name sent an involuntary shiver ran down her spine, but she continued, “She- she speculated that it’s possible other circles of standing stones may have the same kind of . . . _properties_ , as Craigh Na Dun.”

 

“She did,” Roger agreed, flipping the pages of the book on Native American tribes back and forth. “She listed out all the sites across Britain where there are standing stones, and the mysterious deaths or disappearances associated with them.”

 

“So, maybe the standing stones on Ocracoke would work the same way?” She could hear the  small inflection of pleading in her own voice.

 

“Possibly . . .” He handed the book back to her and straightened up, his brows furrowed.

 

“Roger, don’t you see? We could go through sooner. And here, in America.”

 

“Aye, it may be the same type of thing.” He ran of his hands through his hair, letting them come to rest atop his head as though to keep all the information in.

 

“We wouldn’t have to risk an ocean crossing. And we wouldn’t have to travel very far over land. It would put us right there, in North Carolina!” Her thoughts were pouring out of her, she finally allowed herself to feel excitement at the prospect of not having to wait another two months.

 

Roger paced between the kitchen and living room, hands stuffed deep into his pockets once again.

 

“When’s the next fire feast?” Brianna asked him, impatient, setting the book down next to her, and rose from the couch to move towards the kitchen where a calendar hung on the refrigerator.

 

Roger answered her without having to think about it. “February 1st . . .Imbolc. But Bree, that’s just two weeks from now. Ye think we’ll be ready?”

 

The apprehension in his voice stopped her and she turned to him. His face was a mix of emotions, but worry dominated all others. She went to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him close to her.

 

“I don’t see why not,” she said in a reassuring voice as their eyes met. “We’ve already been through the majority of Daddy’s collection of books on life in the colonies, and the ones his colleagues recommended. And we won’t be there for long, shouldn’t have to know everything.”

 

She felt his body relax in her arms, releasing tension. She relaxed herself, thankful that she could give him the same type of comfort that he gave her. Bringing his own arms around her, he smiled.

 

“Aye, yer right.” He kissed the top of her forehead. “Alright then. We’ll try it.”

 

She smiled in response to his words. Moving her hands up to cradle his face in reassurance, she slowly lifted her chin and brought his face down to hers. His lips felt hot on her own, all the excitement and worry of the last few moments released in the connection between them.

 

Roger’s hands ran along her back as he pressed her tighter against him, the usual passion and urgency building between them. Her eyes were closed, allowing herself to be completely consumed by the feeling of him, of the two of them. When he pulled his lips from hers, she instinctually sought them out again with her own mouth.

 

“Bree . . . Brianna . . .” The way he said her name sent a warm wave rolling over her body and she opened her eyes, trying to catch her breath. “There’s one more thing I think we need to do before we go.”

 

“Oh?” She pressed her lower half into him in a suggestive way. “And what would that be?” She was teasing him and could feel the effect it was having on him.

 

“I want you, Brianna. All of you.” He took a breath to fortify himself and continued, “Will ye marry me before we go? I don’t want to risk this without making ye mine, before God.”

 

She felt her heart pounding in her chest, or perhaps his heart, pounding against her own. She didn’t need to think about it this time, it was exactly what she wanted, her way of comforting him, showing him how much he and everything he had done meant to her.

 

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, of cour-”

 

His mouth was back on hers because she could finish. She moaned softly into it and let her entire body melt into his. They weren’t urgent or hurried kisses, but long and slow, worshipping each other with their mouths.

 

After a few moments, she felt the loss of warmth as he removed his hand from the small of her back, felt him fumbling in his pocket against her own hip. Bringing his hand back up, he took her left hand in his and slid a silver band onto her ring finger. A simple emerald was set in the middle of it, a color that was a perfect match to his eyes. He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed the ring there. Her chest felt heavy with emotion, filling her so that all she could do was stand there and look at him.

 

“Come on,” Roger said, and before she knew what was happening, he grasped the back of her thighs and lifted her into the air. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, as he set off down the small hallway, to her bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to everyone who is reading and enjoying this story! I absolutely loved writing this chapter. As always, many thanks to my fellow mods who are amazing betas.
> 
> The rating of this story will be changing with the publication of the next part, so stay tuned for Kat's first foray into writing smut!
> 
> If you would like to submit a prompt to Other Outlander Tales, or check out any of our other stories, you can do so by visiting me and the other mods over on Tumblr at otheroutlandertales.tumblr.com.


	5. Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brianna and Roger celebrate their engagement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has supported this story even while I took a small break from writing it. I hope this next chapter makes up for the longer than usual wait time.
> 
> My undying love and gratitude to all the other mods at Other Outlander Tales, who encouraged me every time I found myself stuck while trying to write this. And when the words finally came, they held my hand through the editing and rewriting, I wouldn't have been able to finally get this chapter done without them.
> 
> This story comes from a prompt submitted to @otheroutlandertales over on Tumblr.
> 
> Anonymous said: Canon Divergence: Bree and Roger travel through the stones together to warn Claire and Jamie of the impending fire at Fraser's Ridge.

Boston, January 1971

 

He kicked the door closed behind them, the sound of it slamming against the frame not registering over the echoing of her words.

 

_She had said yes._

 

It was the only fully coherent thought in his mind. Everything else was a jumble of small, fleeting details - the feel of her wrapped tightly in his arms, the way her chest heaved against his, her long hair flowing down and brushing over his knuckles.

 

Roger staggered towards the center of Brianna’s room, feeling her legs loosen from around his waist. Pulling back from their kiss, he gently set her down on her own two feet. He hesitated for an instant before opening his eyes, not wanting to break the moment for fear that he had imagined it all. But those beautiful blue eyes were staring up at him when he looked at her, burning with an intense want and need that felt more real to him than anything else had before. Her gaze mirrored the riot of feelings he could barely contain within his own chest.

 

He was mesmerized by her, and forced himself to take a deep, settling breath as he lifted his hand to trace the lines of the lingering smile on her face. A strand of red hair was caught on the corner of her mouth, and he tucked it back behind her ear. Her skin was soft as she leaned her cheek into his hand, and the scent of jasmine and lemongrass - her scent - enveloped him as she closed the imperceptible distance between them.

 

They had waited so long for this, coming close many times, but stopping for reasons that made little sense to him now. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes, wanting to push the haze of his own need away, to see her clearly.

 

“Are ye sure you want to do this?” he whispered, bending down to place a tender kiss just below her temple.

 

She didn’t answer him, but he felt the nod of her head and hands move down his sides. They stood together for a few seconds, silent except for the sound of their breathing. He felt Brianna’s fingertips dip below his shirt, brushing against his skin, then grabbing at the hem of his shirt, lifting it up and over his head. A shiver of anticipation ran through him, followed by a feeling of nervousness from being so exposed in front of her. It wasn’t the first time she had seen him like this; they had spent several hot summer days wading into lochs in Scotland, and more than once he had caught her eyes on him as he raced from bathroom to bedroom after a shower. But now, where they were headed, he was completely at her mercy.

 

He had been with other women before, but it was the first time he had felt like this. No one compared to Brianna. He loved her and wanted this to be as perfect for her as possible. He lowered his hands, slightly shaking with nerves, and pulled at her top.

 

“God, yer beautiful.” The words left his mouth without him realizing it as he watched her shirt fall to the floor.

 

She shifted, and her arm came up and across her body as if to cover herself. He made a sound of protest that stopped her arm in-mid air. They stared at one another for a half a breath and exchanged self-conscious smiles. Then she stepped into him completely, hands tangling behind  his neck.

 

He held her body tight to his, tasting her with his mouth over and over. She took several steps backward, leading him in an awkward dance of lips and feet. When the back of her legs hit the frame of her bed, she began to fall, pulling him down with her.

 

Roger caught himself just before his head smacked into hers. On a laughing breath her hands moved between them. His heart quickened as she fumbled with the button on his trousers. He groaned when the button came free, and he sighed when he heard the sound of the zipper lowering.

 

Without thinking, he lifted his hips as she hooked her thumbs through layers of clothing. Her hands brushed his hips and slid the fabric downward. Roger tried to speed things up, and after several impatient kicks he heard his pants hit the floor at the foot of the bed.

 

He lowered himself, pressing against her. He kissed her, urged onward by how warm she was, how soft she felt, how thin her jeans were. He pulled his lips away from hers, and moved down to brush his mouth along her jawline, down her neck, finally reaching the dip at the top of her chest.

 

Goosebumps appeared across her skin as he finally placed a kiss atop her breast. His fingers rose up, taking her in hand, marveling at the way her breast moved with the rolling caress of his fingers. Roger swept his tongue across her nipple, then gently sucked inward. He felt the vibration of her moan radiate out from her chest and he chuckled to himself. Brianna’s hands cradled his face. “ _Please_ ,” she said, urging him to continue. He turned his attention to its pair, eliciting even more glorious noises from her. Her fingers were digging into the back of his head and she had been reduced to urgent pants when he slid himself further down the length of her body. His hands sliding along curves he had been dying to touch for so long.

 

Finally reaching the top of her jeans, he propped himself up between her knees, and looked at her. Her eyes were wide, not focused on his face but slowly scanning the expanse of his naked body. She noticed him staring at her staring at him, and a red flush erupted across her cheekbones, traveled down and spread across her chest.

 

“Will it do for ye?” His voice sounded much more confident than he felt, but she smiled widely and nodded and reached a hand out to him. He shook his head to discourage her for a moment, and bent, reaching for the clasp on her jeans. The skin just above it was the sweetest thing he had ever felt, and it glowed as the light coming from the street shone through the curtains.

 

Roger quickly removed her remaining clothes, tossing them heedlessly off the bed to pile on the floor with his own.

 

"Brianna," her name sighed from his lips as nervous fingers reached out to touch her for the first time. He wasn’t hesitant due to his own lack of experience, but out of his desire to bring her pleasure.

 

 _Slow_ , he reminded himself, working with her body as it moved into him. He stroked with increasing confidence, working a finger into her. A soft moan escaped Brianna. Encouraged, Roger bent his head to her, thankful for all the small, urging gestures she was giving him. He unexpectedly became lost in the sense of her and didn't notice her hands were resting atop his head until her fingers tangled into his hair, pulling him to her. His fingers fluttered over her, around her, back into her. She opened her knees wider and he brought his empty palm to the inside of her thigh, holding her still for him. A sound came from the back of his throat in answer to a breathy groan of want coming from her.

 

"Good, hen?" he asked, her unfocused eyes opening to slits and she nodded, licking her lips then arching her neck back to the pillows in an erotic move that had him redoubling his efforts. Her pleasure completely overtook him. Her hips rocked against him over and over. He curled his finger and swept against her with his thumb. Quite suddenly, he heard a half-hitch and felt her entire body stiffen; her hands fisting in his hair. In seconds, she was shaking under his touch and he stilled his tongue, feeling her wringing the last shudder of completion against him before going limp.

 

Roger raised his head, admiring the look of her in that instant, completely relaxed, body satiated. Her hand had been making slow circles brushed along the stubble of his jawline. He turned his head into her hand and kissed the inside of her palm. She was smiling down at him again.

 

“What?” he said, not knowing exactly what he wanted her to say in response, but finding he desperately needed to fill the silence in the room. He kissed the inside of her thigh, giving her a moment to settle back into herself.

 

She giggled in response to his lips, and he thought to remember that small ticklish spot for future reference, and he raised an inquisitive eyebrow at her.

 

“That was nice.”

 

“ _Nice_?”

 

“Come here.” With a smile at her soft command, he made his way back up her body, leaving kisses along the same trail he had followed down. His mouth ached for hers, and when their lips finally met, hers opened to engulf his, as if they knew.

 

She moved her hand between them, slowly, making her intentions clear. He felt himself harden even more, a feat he would have thought impossible. She handled him with a confidence and surety that would have surprised him, if he had the ability to think at all. He let out a groan that she captured with her mouth. He had almost forgotten his own need, but with long, sure  movements, she led him almost to the edge. He stopped her before coming completely undone, wrapped his hand around her wrist and pulled her hand away.

 

“What are you doing?” She sounded confused and slightly offended.

 

“If ye’d like this to go any further, I can’t have ye finishing me off just now, aye?” His voice was barely more than a whisper. She giggled and the sound eased the tension that had been around them at what they both knew was next. He guided her hand to his chest, laying it flat beneath his own. He knelt over her, revelling in the simplicity of her touch and what it could do to him.

 

“I can feel your heart.” Her voice broke through his own concentration.

 

“Tell me if it stops, aye?”

 

She let out a full bellied laugh then, “Who says things like that?”

 

“Och, weel, there isna much blood left in my head to come up with something better.”

 

She continued to smile up at him, but slowly he watched it transform. The look of bliss that had been present since he had proposed morphed to apprehension.

 

“Bree,” his voice was still soft, but close to pleading, “I cannae promise it won’t hurt, but I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

 

“I know, I want you to. _Please_.” He felt her shift beneath him and raise her hips up to meet his, an encouragement to herself and him. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her. And with control he didn’t know he possessed, he carefully and deliberately lowered himself to join her.

 

It was a feeling unlike any he had experienced before. His sigh of pleasure came out as a guttural groan and he lost sense of everything but her. The physical sensation of being surrounded by her tight warmth coupled with the emotional significance of the act threatened to leave him undone after the first thrust. But he fought against his own pleasure and refocused his attention on her.

 

Her eyes were squeezed tight, hands still unmoving on his chest. Her kiss-swollen lips formed an _oh_ shape, though no sound came from her. He held himself above her, not moving for fear of hurting her.

 

“It’s alright.” Her voice was low, but held no sense of hesitation.

 

He began to move, cautiously, timidly at first, but picking up speed as the Brianna encouraged him and snapped her hips in tandem with his. Despite the newness of being together, the feeling was familiar, as though they had each found the one person their body fit perfectly with.

 

“ _Bree_ ,” he could feel the urgent plea in his voice, he wouldn’t be able to hold off for much longer. Bree grabbed his bottom firmly. “ _Roger_ ,” her quiet response of his name was all the encouragement he needed. His orgasm hit him hard and fast, and he began to shake as the pleasure swept over him. He let his weight fall on her, and he felt the reassurance of her embrace as she wrapped her arms around him.

 

Roger lay still, breathing in the scent of them as he tried to gain control of his muscles. He closed his eyes and listened to her heart as it slowed. When he rolled to his side, he pulled her close to him and settled into the mattress. His hands traced her face, stroked her hair, fingertips brushing her lips. Brianna was glowing, a small sheen of sweat appearing across her exposed skin.

 

“Did I hurt you?” he asked hesitantly, afraid that she hadn’t truly enjoyed it as much as he had.

 

“No.” He felt her lips curl up in a  smile. “It was uncomfortable for just a moment. But you were so gentle, Roger. It was _very nice._ ” He recognized her teasing tone, and his heart swelled knowing that she spoke the truth.

 

They laid together in silence for some time, both reveling in the glow of what had finally transpired. He slowly became aware of the small circles she had been drawing across his stomach with the back of her hand. He felt the warm metal of her ring on his skin, and his heart leapt remembering how she agreed to be his for the rest of her life, how they could enjoy moments like this forever.

 

He reached down to take her hand in his, bringing it up to his lips and kissing the emerald that now adorned her left ring finger.

 

“Tomorrow, then?” he asked, hoping she took his meaning.

 

“If we can get a wedding license that quickly. Uncle Joe should be able to stand as a witness for us.” He nodded, a small pang of guilt hitting him.

 

“Bree, I’m sorry we dinna have the time for a real wedding. For you to find a dress-” His voice had begun to trail off, and he had meant to continue with the wishes he had had for their wedding day before things had turned, but she silenced him with a kiss.

 

It was a long moment before she pulled back from his lips, and she smiled up at him.

 

“Those things don’t matter to me. Being here, with you, being your wife, that’s what’s important. And after that, going together to find my parents.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read this story.
> 
> If you would like to submit a prompt to Other Outlander Tales, or check out any of our other stories, you can do so by visiting me and the other mods over on Tumblr at otheroutlandertales.tumblr.com.


	6. Part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newly married, Bree and Roger make their way to North Carolina and closer to their journey through the stones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who continues to support this story even though I am horribly slow at updating.
> 
> As always, so much love to all the other mods at Other Outlander Tales; they continuously boost me up when I feel like giving up.
> 
> This story comes from a prompt submitted to @otheroutlandertales over on Tumblr.
> 
> Anonymous said: Canon Divergence: Bree and Roger travel through the stones together to warn Claire and Jamie of the impending fire at Fraser's Ridge.

**_Outer Banks, North Carolina, January 29, 1971_ **

 

Brianna gazed out the passenger window of her Mustang, the Outer Banks a green and blue blur of ocean and grass as the car sped down Highway 12. 

 

The events of the last eleven days were a jumble, blending together with all the possibilities she envisioned for them beyond the stones. An obscure reel of thoughts with no clear focus.  

 

Trying to calm the racing in her head, she stroked her thumb along the underside of her left finger, slowly twirling the ring that sat there in a circle. It was a new habit she had picked up, touching it, reminding herself it was still real, finding comfort in the small action in a way she couldn’t quite explain. It anchored her, more than anything, representing one thing - the only thing - certain in her life.

 

Turning away from the coastal scenery, she peered over at Roger. Softly, he sang along to a Stone’s song on the radio, his fingertips tapping the beat on the steering wheel. She smiled, recalling the image of him unconsciously twirling his fingers about in the pocket of his trousers, playing with the ring for all those weeks, and wondered if it had brought him the same kind of solace it now brought her.

 

She leaned her head back against the window, glancing out it again. The emerald stone was warm when she ran her finger over it, and tilting her hand slightly, she noticed how it lit from within when the sun struck it. Its dark green color transformed to a brilliant sparkling shade, reminding her of summer in the Highlands. 

 

A small part of her ached to be back there now; driving along the tight country roads with Roger, him prattling on about local history and landmarks, both of them laughing together without a care in the world.  Had things been different, perhaps they would have honeymooned in Scotland just as her parents had. The thought suddenly occurred to her:  _ both _ of her mother's honeymoons had been there; and with that came a nervous anticipation of what might await her and Roger.

 

Trying to ignore the complicated feelings that surfaced whenever she thought on the subject, she reached for Roger’s restless hand. He noticed her movement and took his eyes off the road for just a moment to smile at her. His hand enveloped hers, and he lifted it to his mouth. She felt the warmth of his breath as he brushed his lips over the knuckles of her fingers. He planted a second kiss where her ring sat, and a flush radiated up her arm and through her body at his touch.

 

He had made that same gesture of love countless times since the night he proposed, but now she was reminded of how he had done it once they’d exchanged their vows. 

 

The wedding had been perfect, despite how quickly it had been put together. Obtaining a marriage license on short notice had been easy, though Roger had insisted on at least trying to find a priest or minister who would be able to wed them. They eventually found a small Presbyterian church with a reverend who was free that very Saturday. 

 

Upon their first meeting, she had noticed the older man eyeing her stomach every few minutes, as if trying to discern the slightest hint of a baby bump, an explanation for their haste. Brianna had shot daggers at him every time she caught him doing so, and Roger shook, trying to stifle his laughter at her indignation, breaking into a fit of coughs several times to cover himself.

 

She had worn a simple cream pantsuit, unable to find a dress that fit her properly on such short notice. Roger had donned himself in full Highland regalia - a questionable packing choice when they had left Oxford, Bree not seeing the necessity in bringing his MacKenzie tartan all the way to Boston only to be packed up in a box for storage. 

 

But she had laughed with pure joy when he had tried it on the night before the ceremony, his face beaming with Scottish pride. Brianna had teased him over the fact that he would be the one wearing the dress at their wedding instead of her, which she quickly learned was a mistake. That comment had earned her a fifteen minute lecture on the benefits of wearing a kilt over trousers, which culminated in one of those benefits being demonstrated for her, much to her delight and pleasure. 

 

Brianna had asked Joe to walk her down the aisle and stand in witness for them. The amount of joy and love that had exuded from him as he kissed her cheek at the altar made her heart swell for her mother’s oldest friend. 

 

Their vows had been simple, traditional, the words hardly altered over hundreds of years. The speaking of them was like pulling a thread tenuously binding the past and present. They held that fragile thread between them now as they embarked on their journey. When the reverend had pronounced them husband and wife, Roger pulled her close, kissing her just a moment too long to be considered decent, and her head devoid of any thought beyond her new husband.

 

Joe and Gail had taken them out to dinner to celebrate. Joe regaled the small party with stories of Brianna as a child, drawing from the reservoir of tales Claire had shared with him over the years. It was an evening spent not with plans and preparations for the future, or past, but in the moment. 

 

Her heart constricted as she remembered her last conversation with Joe before they parted that night.

 

_ Pulling her aside as they left the small restaurant, he wrapped her in a hug that made her feel small even as she stood two inches taller than him. _

 

_ “You’re going after her, aren’t you?” Joe’s lowered voice permeated the fog of happiness Brianna was floating in, and it took her a second to process his words. _

 

_ “She told you?” Brianna knew her mother had revealed the truth about Jamie Fraser to him, but she was breathless at being able to talk about it at last. _

 

_ “She did.” He pulled back from her to look into her eyes, his brow creased in concern, and she didn’t try to hide the confirmation he would surely find there. “Are you sure it’s safe, Bree?”  _

 

_ She opened her mouth to assure him, but found no words of comfort, could not tell him the truth, even as she knew he sensed it.  _

 

_ “I understand why she had to do it.” A sad smile appeared on Joe’s face. “But you, you don’t have to. You know she’s happy, and you have a life here.” _

 

_ “Joe.” Bree’s voice sounded desperate even to her own ears, willing him to understand. “Roger - he found something. I don’t want to worry you with the details, but I have to go.” _

 

_ “And he’s going with you?” _

 

_ She glanced over Joe’s shoulder and saw Roger standing beside Gail. She was chatting cheerily away in a congratulatory fashion, and he was nodding at every other word, though his eyes were focused on Brianna.  _

 

_ Confidence surged through her, and she realized that though they had made all these arrangements and planned for all of the situations they may face, she was still holding a sliver of doubt over what they were doing. But Roger had promised to make sure she had everything she needed to go back, and had fulfilled that promise. She felt a love for him beyond anything she had known before. _

 

_ She nodded in response to Roger’s look, and Joe took it as an affirmative to his question. _

 

_ “Would you have done this,” he gestured his hand about, and she understood his meaning, “If you weren’t facing a life or death decision?” _

 

_ “Yes,” she said without any hesitation. “Yes.” _

 

_ “Well, that makes me feel better. He looks at you like he’d be willing to take on anything to protect you. And where you’re going, you may need that.” _

 

_ Brianna pulled him back into a tight embrace. _

 

_ “Tell her I love her and miss her dearly.” _

 

_ “I will.” Her voice cracked just a little as she unsuccessfully forced tears back. “Thank you, Joe.” _

 

They’d left the next morning, her Mustang packed with only the things they needed for their journey. Roger made a few comments about proper weddings and decent honeymoons, but Brianna insisted that road trips made perfectly acceptable honeymoon vacations.

 

They drove down the Atlantic coast, taking their time, stopping in Edenton and New Bern - two possible ports they would reach after traveling through the stones. Then they made their way south to Wilmington, spending a couple of nights there to acquaint themselves with the area as much as they could, though they knew things would be different in the past. Those few days were spent in a relaxed state of mind, enjoying small touristy moments with Roger, and she was feeling more rested and at ease than she had expected as Imbolc approached.

 

But now they were on their way to Hatteras Island, the final stop before the stones. Roger squeezed her hand, and she turned to look at him. 

 

“Not much further. What do ye think about just finding a place to stay and turning in early? Enough time to sort matters tomorrow.”

 

The sun was already starting to dip in the western sky though it was only mid-afternoon, and Bree realized how tired the car ride had made her.

 

“That sounds nice. I don’t think I’d be of much use to do anything else.”

 

He nodded, his fingers brushing over her knuckles once again. And a sudden realization swept over her.

 

“Roger! My ring!” Her voice was loud and panicked, causing him to snap his head down to look at her ring and then up to her face in confusion.

 

“What? What is it?”

 

“I can’t take it with me! It’ll be lost going through the stones.” She felt the tears roll down her cheeks before she even knew she was crying. The simple ring that had given her strength would be lost the moment she touched the stone. 

 

Brianna tried to stop herself, but every worry and fear she had been trying to stamp down came flooding to the surface. She was terrified of all the things that could go wrong: not making it through, ending up in the wrong time, never being able to make it back . . . Weeks’ worth of worry released itself in a gush of emotion.

 

Roger let go of her hand, and she wiped furiously at the tears. He pulled the car off the road and shifted into park, and then extended his arms to pull her close to him. She let her body melt into his, thankful for the solid feel of him against her. He uttered soft Gaelic words into her hair until her cheeks were dry.

 

“Bree,  _ Bree _ . I meant for this,” he held up her hand, indicating the ring. “I meant for this stone to be the one to see the safe through those stones.”

 

“You knew I wouldn’t be able to keep it?” Her voice was calmer than she expected it to be, though she felt a slight sense of betrayal on his part. “But Roger, it was your mother’s ring!” 

 

“I know, but we need the gem to get through safely.” 

 

“And what about  _ you _ then?” It was the one she had forgotten to double check in their preparations, and she was upset but thankful that Roger had handled it.

 

“I have her locket for me.”

 

“So you’re fine with them being turned to dust?” she accused, perhaps more bitingly than she intended.

 

“I think she would be happy to know they were being used to see her son and his  _ wife _ safe.” His mouth turned up into a sly smile when he said  _ wife _ . “So, it’s fine, aye?”

 

She began to relax, her pulse slowing to its normal rate, and nodded in agreement.

 

“Yeah, okay.”

 

“So, let’s get to town and turn in for the night, sound good?”

 

“Okay.”

 

She stayed curled into his side the last mile of the trip, then fell into the lumpy mattress of their motel room, and finally let sleep carry her away from her worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read this story.
> 
> If you would like to submit a prompt to Other Outlander Tales, or check out any of our other stories, you can do so by visiting me and the other mods over on Tumblr at otheroutlandertales.tumblr.com.


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